


skin and bone (trained to get along)

by wreckingtomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Interns & Internships, M/M, Smut, and eyeroll-worthy icebreakers, i can't tag for shit tbh and i'm sorry, lots of banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckingtomlinson/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis blinks. It's official, Google people are crazy. "And how is this supposed to help us get to know each other?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	skin and bone (trained to get along)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the post:
> 
> nick and louis both starting an internship together and having to go through awkward ice breakers together
> 
> It ran away with me a bit but I really hope it does this post justice! Kind of a little inspired by _The Internship_ (and by inspired, I mean it's set at Google).
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's [Treacherous](http://youtu.be/Y8zdomWWP4g).

It’s taken all of ten minutes for Louis to decide that he hates orientation programs, and to a lesser extent, internships, other interns, and people in general. 

He knows he’s lucky to have this position in the first place, after months of fighting off other college students for the spot. Alright, so maybe _fighting_ isn’t exactly the right word, but it was a stressful process nonetheless. His mother had actually had to tell him to stop freaking out when he called her, concerned about his lack of a patent. 

“Louis, you’re _fine_ ,” she’d told him after the fifth call in ten days. 

“Mom, you don’t understand. There are people who go to places like MIT. MIT has a section on their application where you can list all the patents you have,” Louis had pointed out. “I don’t have a patent. I can’t even use iMovie with it crashing twelve times on me.” 

His mother sighed. “You’re still fine. Remember, what you think looks nice on paper doesn’t always make a person best for the position.” 

And, as always, his mother managed to make him feel better. For about forty-eight hours at a time. 

The letter in the mail after Christmas that told him he’d gotten a spot made his mother exclaim “I told you so!” and kiss him on the cheek, but Louis just felt a whole new kind of nervous. Here he was, a marketing student who knew just enough HTML to make text bold and italic interning at _Google_. 

It was was all downhill from there. Louis lost his mind over just about everything. What to pack, how much to pack, if it would be cool enough for his favorite hoodies, if he even needed to bring toiletries or just buy them when he got there—By the time he came home for the summer, he was a mess and his mother just told him to pack two week’s worth of clothing, buy soap and shampoo when he got there, and be done with it. 

With that out of the way, Louis thought he was done worrying. He wasn’t. The only flight he could get into San Diego would get him there just before the program officially started, which was pushing it, but the only option he had, unless he wanted to drive three hours to another airport. 

Of course, when he checked in, the flight was delayed for an hour. He sat at the gate, aggressively playing Fruit Ninja, resolving _not_ to call his mother. 

The flight itself was smooth—Louis even had a window seat, which he liked—but when he landed, his luggage had gotten shipped off to Las Vegas. Fuck. This was a bad idea, the entire thing, and he probably should have just gotten a job at the local Starbucks and been done with it. 

Louis had burst through the doors, shouting his apologies for being late, when one of the program directors handed him a nametag, told him to calm down, and when he was ready, to go through the second set of doors down the left hallway to join the others for orientation icebreakers. 

Icebreakers, great. His fourth favorite thing after delayed flights, lost luggage, and people who pop their gum. 

So now here he is, two hours late for the start of the Google internship orientation probably looking like he just _ran_ all the way from Rhode Island. 

Louis walks in through the doors, and the first thing he sees is a friendly blond man waving in his face. “Hi, Lewis?” the man asks, looking at Louis’ nametag. 

“Uh, Louis. Like the French kings.” 

“Right! Sorry, sorry. I’m Niall, nice to meet you”—he shakes Louis’ hand enthusiastically—“and Zayn’s up there leading the icebreakers.” He points to a young man with black hair and glasses who can’t be older than twenty-seven, standing on a slightly raised platform holding a microphone. You haven’t missed too much, honestly. What held you up?” 

Niall seems nice, even if that smile seems a little glued to his face. “Flight got delayed and now my bags are gambling in Vegas,” Louis explains with a slight laugh, trying to make light of it. 

Niall thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, letting out a barking laugh and patting Louis on the shoulder. “You’re great. Well, glad you’re here anyway. They’re in the middle of the evolution game.” 

Louis looks out to the room full of people, watching some walk around with their arms over their head, some who look like they’re mid-Chicken Dance, and some with arms tucked in like a _T. rex_. “What the fuck is the evolution game?” Louis blurts out before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Language must not be an issue because Niall doesn’t say anything. “It’s like Rock, Paper, Scissors, but with levels. Everybody starts as an egg,” he explains pointing to a girl with purple hair and her arms in an O shape over her head. “And you pick someone, randomly, to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with, and if you win, you become a chicken. If you lose, you stay an egg. And it keeps going like that all the way up to a superhero. You can only challenge people at your level or lower.” 

Louis blinks, watching a guy who must be a chicken engage someone who looks like an egg. It’s official, Google people are crazy. “And how is this supposed to get us to know each other?” 

“It doesn’t, really,” Niall admits, “but it’s supposed to get you to feel kind of comfortable around each other. You know, not be afraid to act silly and be yourself and stuff.” 

“I see,” Louis says, not seeing at all. Just then, the announcer—Zayn—yells into the microphone, his voice bouncing around the room. “Alright, time’s up! Moving on. This one doesn’t have a name, but it’s easy. I’m gonna call out two body parts, and when I do that, you find someone else in the room and use those parts to touch.” The room echoes with titters and snorts. “Shit, sorry. That sounded awkward. But it won’t be like that. Keep it respectful, right?” 

“Right!” exclaims a group of about ten boys in the corner. 

“Good. We’ll start easy. Hand and foot!” 

The moment after Zayn calls out the words, half the people drop to the floor, smacking the foot of the person nearest to them. 

“Go on.” Niall gives Louis a gentle push into the sea of people. Sighing, Louis goes, walking ten feet before finding a curly-haired boy looking around like a lost puppy. 

“Need a hand?” is the first thing Louis can think of to say as he drops to one knee to put his hand on the boy’s foot before he cringes at his own awful pun. 

The boy—Harry, according to his nametag—just laughs. Everyone seems to think Louis’ awful sense of humor is funny, which might work in his favor. “I was worried I’d have to stand here and put my own hand on my foot.” 

“Glad to be of help,” Louis says before Zayn calls out, “Elbow and knee!” 

Some girl with blonde hair runs up to Harry, so Louis jets off in another direction. He finds a friendly-looking kid called Liam, who greets him with a wide smile and an elbow to the knee. 

So the game isn’t actually that bad after all, at least until Zayn yells, “Let’s mix this up a bit. Cheek and cheek!” 

Well, fuck. Louis’ about to make a quip about dancing cheek to cheek when someone bumps into him from behind. “Hey,” Louis protests, turning around to yell some more before the person stops him. 

“Calm _down_ , Jesus Christ. Cheek to cheek, get it?” 

It takes a moment, but Louis does. They’re standing back-to-back with their butts touching. “Original,” he says dryly. 

“But less awkward,” the person points out, and Louis spins away to get a look at this mystery person just as Zayn says something else. 

He’s tall—like, _really_ tall, at least a head taller than Louis, though his hair probably adds a good three inches to his height. His nametag reads “Nick” and he’s got a lazy kind of smirk. Louis can’t decide if he really hates him or really doesn’t. 

“True,” Louis concedes with a small shrug, and before he can think of anything witty to shoot back Nick is scurrying away to follow Zayn’s newest set of instructions. Judging by the people around him, it looks like the next words were “heel” and “back.” He turns around, ready to find someone, but Harry comes running up to him and flings a long spaghetti leg around Louis’ waist to his back. 

Louis can’t help but laugh. “You again, huh?” 

“Saw you with Nick,” Harry says, like that’s an explanation. 

“You know Nick?” 

“Yeah, he’s a good friend from home. Funny as anything.” 

“Uh huh. He’s a real bunch of wit,” Louis says wryly, but Harry must think he’s serious. 

“He’s great! Nick and I were gonna go find a KFC around here for dinner if you wanted to come?” 

Harry seems nice, and he’s doing some kind of puppy-dog begging thing with his eyes that Louis isn’t even sure is on purpose, so he says yes. What he’s more concerned about is how the hell a lanky kid like Harry managed to balance on one long leg for so long. 

That’s the end of the game, though, as Zayn puts the microphone to his lips to say, “That’s all for that game! Sorry. But I think you’ll like this one. This one’s called Three Wishes. Get yourselves into groups of three, and then I’ll tell you how this one works.” 

“Let’s be in a group with Nick. Nick!” Harry exclaims, looking around for his friend. Oh, great. Louis gets to do yet another awkward icebreaker with this guy. He knows he’s being rude, but he passively wishes someone else latches onto their group before Nick comes by. 

He catches the eye of the Liam kid from before, but Liam looks like he’s already found a group. Louis sighs deeply, about to tell Harry he’ll go find another group when Nick appears out of fucking nowhere with his annoying loud voice and big hair, exclaiming, “Harry!” 

“Nick!” Harry responds with equal verve, clapping his friend on the back. “I see you and Louis have met.” 

Nick pauses to look Louis up and down. Louis makes a face and crosses his arms, not appreciating the way Nick is looking at him. “So we have. He didn’t seem to enjoy my ‘cheek to cheek’ joke.” 

“I wasn’t expecting it,” Louis retorts, flicking his eyes up and down Nick in the same manner. 

“That would’ve taken all the fun out of it,” Nick says right as Zayn raises the microphone again. 

“Okay guys, here’s how it works. Two of the people in the group are genies, and the third is the master,” Zayn explains. “So the genies kneel down on the floor—yes, right now, go on—and the master gets to make three wishes, and the genies _have_ to fill those wishes. Once the three wishes are complete, the master becomes a genie and one of the genies takes their place. Make sense? Any questions? No? Go!” 

Before Louis or Harry can say anything, Nick is clapping his hands and declaring himself the genie. “First wish is for both of you to untie, then retie my shoes.” 

Harry laughs good-naturedly and drops gracelessly to the floor in a collapse of limbs. 

Louis puts on his best exasperated face, but joins Harry on the ground. “That’s really your wish?” 

“I could make this a lot more difficult for you, you know,” Nick shoots back, raising an eyebrow while Harry fiddles with the shoelaces. 

“Oh, blow me.”  
  
“I’m in a better position to ask that than you,” Nick shoots back with a raised eyebrow. Louis wants very much to whack Nick in the back of the knees. 

“Uh, guys?” Harry squeaks, looking back and forth between the two of them with a blush. 

Nick ignores him. “Fuck yourself.” 

Louis smirks. “Is that your wish?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I’ll do it because I want to but not because you told me to.” 

“Guys?” Harry ventures, a little louder this time. 

Nick makes an exaggerated scandalized face. “Not right here, you wouldn’t.” 

“Of course not right here. That’s not a show for everybody to see.” 

“Guys!” Harry actually raises his voice, getting Louis and Nick to shut up and listen. “Can we just, um…” He trails off, red-faced and blushing, and Louis really wants to laugh but he feels like Harry might think he was laughing in a mean-spirited way. Which he wouldn’t be, but something about Harry makes him not want to make him sad. 

“Fine, fine.” Louis grumbles nonsense under his breath the entire time, undoing Nick’s laces—his shoes are too fucking shiny and fancy, god, it’s just an _internship_ program, it’s not the first day at Goldman Sachs or something—and deciding to tie his shoes together as revenge. 

“What the—Louis!” Nick exclaims, nearly falling over himself. “Are you six? Did you really tie my shoes together?” 

Louis shrugs mildly. “Should’ve been more specific, Nick. Haven’t you heard the stories? You have to be very specific when you’re dealing with a genie, otherwise they can take all kinds of liberties with what you say.” 

Nick glares. “Then my second wish is for you to untie this knot and retie by shoes without tying them together. Tie each lace _neatly_.” 

After taking a moment to try to find a loophole in Nick’s request, Louis does what he says, actually taking effort to make a neat knot. 

Apparently they’ve taken too long bantering at each other, though, because then Zayn announces the end of the game and therefore, the end of the icebreaker program. The doors on the far end of the room open once again, and everybody starts pouring out, finding their friends and chattering loudly. 

“Hey, Lou, you still on for KFC later?” Harry asks him. 

Lou? Sure, Harry can just pick up nicknames like that without even asking. Somehow Louis doesn’t mind. “Yeah, where do you want to meet?” 

“Out front at seven?” 

Louis pulls out his phone to check the time. It’s almost five, and—fuck, he needs to move in. Without his suitcase. Grand. “Yeah, sounds okay.” 

Harry looks happy, and skips off with Nick right behind him. Louis sighs. It’s going to be an interesting three months. 

An hour later, Louis’ in his room with his laptop—all he’d brought as a carry-on, despite his mother telling him to pack a change of clothes—waiting for his roommate to show up. It’s not that big or fancy of a room, just two lofted beds with desks underneath. How _ergonomic_ , or something. The window gives a nice view of some trees, which isn’t much to look at but it’s not bad either, so Louis keeps them open for natural light. If he had his suitcase, he’d be putting the sheets on his bed, but as it is all he has is a blue polka-dot fleece blanket he’d gone into town to buy. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and then the sound of keys in the lock, and Liam pokes his head in. 

“Liam!” Louis exclaims, sliding his computer off his lap and rushing to hold the door open while Liam drags his luggage in. “I didn’t know we were roommates!” 

“Neither did I,” Liam replies, smiling like he’s genuinely happy to have Louis as a roommate. “But hey, it’s a good thing we’ve met!” 

“You got that right. I was sitting up here all this time hoping to god I didn’t have somebody awful, you know?” Louis shuts the door and turns to see Liam setting up his stuff on the other side of the room. 

“Yeah, exactly. Are you doing anything tonight? I was talking to some guys and they wanted to go out.” 

“I, yeah, actually. I was gonna go to KFC with Harry and Nick—um, do you know them?” 

Liam hums. “The tall one with the big hair, that’s Nick?” 

“Yeah, that’s him.” 

“Well, have fun, then.” 

“Do you mind? I mean, I’ll be back before it gets too late, I’m sure.” Louis’ concerned about his new roommate, not wanting Liam to think Louis’ the kind to just share a space rather than be friends. 

Liam just smiles though, not looking offended in the least. “Don’t worry. Jaymi asked me to join him and Josh and Jade at some place they found down the street.” 

That’s an awful lot of J’s but Louis doesn’t say that. Instead, he just smiles and nods as someone starts knocking loudly at the door. 

“Louis, it’s me,” Harry’s voice says, and Louis jumps up to let him in. 

“Harry! It’s not seven already, is it?” 

Harry shakes his head, walking in. “No, but Nick sent me over to find you anyway. No idea why. Oh wait, you’re Liam, right?” 

Louis leaves Harry and Liam to their introductions, choosing instead to plug in his laptop charger so his computer doesn’t die on him. The Wifi is excellent, so there’s one more good thing to think about. 

The KFC isn’t far from the complex, just a few blocks to the west, and Louis is thankful because it means less of listening to Nick yammer on about who knows what and more eating. He hasn’t had anything to eat since an egg at breakfast that morning and some pretzels on the plane, so he’s starving. 

~ 

Louis isn’t exactly sure how, but after they’d left KFC, happy and laughing and full, Nick had convinced them to go to a club. It’s a small, small place, the kind that one might pass right by on the street for its lack of signage and lights. Louis strongly doubts Harry’s even old enough to drink, but they’re not questioned as they take a seat at the bar and Nick orders a round of beer. The counter is sticky and might smell like every kind of alcohol Louis can name.

“I think,” Nick declares, “it’s come time for a bit of lubing up.” 

Louis chokes on his Guinness. “ _Please_ tell me that’s a euphemism.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Nick says offhandedly, “but what I meant was getting comfortable. Talking and shit.” 

“Well, what do you want to know, then?” Louis raises his eyebrows at Nick’s nonchalant comment, but he ignores it for now. If he’s looking at Nick’s hand curled around the glass, well, nobody has to know that. 

“Well I mean, Harry and I know each other from home. Worked together in the bookstore.” 

“Where’s home for you, then?” 

“Atlanta. Where are you from?” 

“Providence, Rhode Island.” 

“You a Brown kid, then?” 

“No, Bryant. Brown didn’t want me.” Louis shrugs. When the rejection letter came, he’d been upset, but he’d gotten over it once he started at Bryant. “But whatever. I like it. Where do you guys go, then?” 

“Emory, both of us,” Harry supplies. His beer is already half gone and Louis wonders when that happened. 

Louis doesn’t know how long they sit there chatting, or how many beers he’s had before he finds himself on the dance floor. There’s barely any room as it is but with thirty-plus people all packed into the same tiny space in front of the DJ, it’s near impossible to move. 

“Louuuuu!” Harry drawls from somewhere off to his left, and Louis turns his head to see Harry dragging a pretty blonde girl behind him. “I made a friend!” 

“Nice, and what’s your friend’s name?” Louis humors him, even though he’s clearly had too many and Louis probably isn’t that far off. 

The girl introduces herself as Taylor, and laughs too loudly when Louis offers his hand to shake. “Where’s Nick?” he asks Harry, shoving his hand back in his pocket. 

Harry shrugs. “I dunno, dancin’ somewhere…probably. I should dance! You should dance! Find a nice girl and dance.” 

This really isn’t the time for Louis to say that he’s not that interested in women, but his mouth decides that’s a good idea. Harry doesn’t look affected by the information. “Okay. Then find a nice guy and dance. It’s easy! How about that one?” 

They met four hours ago and already Harry is playing wingman. Louis isn’t sure whether to feel weird or flattered that Harry’s already trying to help Louis pick up guys. He takes it as a nice gesture, and follows Harry’s finger to— 

“Oh, fuck no. Harry, that’s _Nick_. You’re pointing to _Nick_.” 

Taylor starts tugging on Harry’s arm, looking impatient, and Harry smiles. “Then dance with Nick!” he calls out before heading back into the mob. 

“I am _not_ dancing with Nick,” Louis says aloud to nobody. “Definitely not Nick.” It’s stupid, too, his reason for not wanting to—Nick rubs him the wrong way. And even _that_ is stupid. Nick’s just…Nick. Loud and witty and brash and basically everything that Louis is, only ten times more. It’s like a challenge, just being around him, to have the last word or outsass him. And it’s only been four hours. Louis likes Harry well enough, but how he’s going to put up with Nick for the next three months is a task that Louis is probably going to have to start praying again to deal with. 

“Hi, duck,” Nick’s voice says in his ear from behind, shaking him out of his stubborn thoughts. “You look like you’re ready to kill somebody.” 

“Maybe I am.” Louis turns his head to glare up at Nick. “Harry’s found a girl and then he said I should dance with _you_.” 

Nick finds his extraordinarily funny, throwing his head back and laughing loud enough to be heard over the music. “You say that like it’d be the worst thing in the world.” 

It’s not even an admonition, but Louis feels bad as soon as Nick says it. He barely even knows the guy and he’s already written him off as annoying. It’s too early for that and Louis knows it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters. 

“Then I think we should dance.” Nick puts his hands on Louis’ waist, just enough to graze over the fabric of his shirt, and Louis shivers. 

“Yeah, I suppose we can,” he says, and either he’s had way too much of that Guinness or somebody turned the thermostat up because his cheeks feel irritatingly warm. 

“This okay?” Nick murmurs in his ear, fingers pressing into Louis’ hipbones, rubbing gently. Louis just nods, relaxing into the touch, his back pressing into Nick’s solid chest behind him. He’s sticky with sweat and so is Nick, and it’ll only get worse but fuck if he cares right now. It’s been five or six months since he last got laid, almost a year since it was any good, and he thinks he might want to change both of those numbers. Feeling bold, he grinds back experimentally, his ass against Nick’s crotch and the sound Nick makes gives him the confidence he needs. 

They’re on the outskirts of the main dance floor, right by the bar where anybody can see them, but Louis can’t find it in himself to care. “Slow down, duck,” Nick mutters, only for Louis to do exactly the opposite, hips moving in tight, focused circles with one mission clearly in mind. “You’re awful.” 

“Make it better, then,” Louis shoots back, never ceasing his movements. Nick’s fingers dig in where they’re gripping at him, which Louis takes as encouragement. 

“Fuck, you—bathroom. Now,” Nick growls in his ear, nipping once and Louis cheers inwardly. He lets himself be pulled toward the back, but the bathroom must only accommodate one because it’s locked. 

Nick swears. “No time for this. We’re going back.” 

“Hurry.” It’s Louis turn to pull now, grabbing Nick’s arm and heading for the door. Once they’re outside, the cool air hits him like a blanket, cold and soothing after spending so long inside with so many other people. They both try to flag down cabs, but only one of them is successful and the two pile in. Once the door is shut Nick is on him, kissing roughly with no pattern. First he’s at Louis’ lips, then his neck, then his cheek and his nose and Louis really doesn’t care as long as Nick doesn’t stop. Hands fluttering, he finds Nick’s hair and grips tightly, stomach curling at the groan Nick makes in response. 

The ride back is far too long, but finally the cab stops, Nick pays, and they stumble out. There’s a blur of stairs and keys and darkness, but then Nick flips the light on in his room and pins Louis to the door as soon as it closes. Louis fists his hands in Nick’s shirt and pulls him closer yet, tilting his head up to meet Nick’s mouth. Nick gets a hand in Louis’ hair and tugs his head back farther yet, making Louis’ mouth drop open. All he can do is let it happen now, with no leverage of his own, and Louis really shouldn’t find this hot but he does. Nick is relentless, tongue licking inside of Louis’ mouth, running over his teeth and the inside of his cheek like he can’t get enough and all Louis can really do is reach down to start undoing Nick’s jeans. 

Nick breaks the kiss suddenly, panting against Louis’ temple, breath hot on his skin. “Fuck, you—bed, go, get on the bed.” 

Louis wriggles out from between the wall and Nick and goes, pulling his shirt off when he’s halfway there and starting to shimmy out of his jeans on the way. It’s graceless, the way he kicks them off and almost faceplants, but Nick doesn’t seem to be looking. “Lube?” he asks, not wanting to have to climb back down after going up once. 

“On the desk. I’ll get it.” 

“No, you’ll take too long,” Louis replies petulantly, swiping it off the desk and quickly scurrying up the ladder to the bed. Nick seems to be taking his sweet time, which Louis is not having any of, so once he’s naked, he pops the cap open and coats his fingers in lube, intending to open himself up. Perching on his knees and one hand, he reaches behind himself, easing one finger in with little resistance. Still, it’s been a while since he’s had more than just his own fingers so he figures he should take it a little more slowly than usual. “Fuck, get up here,” Louis moans, pushing his finger in and out. 

He feels the bedframe shake slightly and then he can hear Nick’s low intake of air just behind him, and Louis smirks. 

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” Nick mutters. Louis ignores him until there’s a firm hand pulling his fingers out of him. Frustrated, his hand smacks down on the mattress. 

Nick just chuckles. “Patient, be patient,” he chides, and then there are fingers inside him again but this time they’re Nick’s. Moaning, Louis shifts his hips back, trying to get them deeper. Nick doesn’t stop him, just preps him thoroughly, never crooking his fingers to hit right where Louis is most sensitive and Louis isn’t sure if he should be annoyed or grateful. 

“Nick, I’m fine, that’s enough, can you hurry up and fuck me already?” Louis snaps once Nick has three fingers in. 

Another chuckle. “You’re so needy,” Nick remarks, but Louis hears the crinkle and then the rip of a foil packet and he knows he’s close to getting what he wants. It hasn’t even been that long, but his cock—which _nobody_ has touched, by the way—hangs heavy and hard between his legs and he needs some attention right fucking now. 

He’s about to say something snarky in return but then Nick is pressing into him, slow but consistent, working his way inside until Louis’ ass is flush with Nick’s pelvis. The fullness is so, so much, even after the fingers, and Louis drops to his elbows and whines quietly into the sheets. 

He gives Nick the go ahead once he’s adjusted, and Nick fucks into him, quick and deep, drawing gasps and groans from deep within Louis’ chest. The neighbors can probably hear, but all that matters to Louis is that he’s finally being fucked, and fucked _well_. He can feel Nick drape over his back, covering him completely, and the change in angle gets Nick to hit his prostate; Louis lets him know with a choked grunt. “Fuck, right, right there, harder, fuck fuck fuck come on,” he babbles. 

Nick says nothing but drives into him harder yet, making the sound of skin on skin fill the room along with Louis’ muffled little noises. Louis isn’t going to last long, he knows it. “Close, Nick, come on.” 

“Almost there, Lou,” Nick huffs behind him, and then Louis can feel Nick hit his peak, filling the condom. “Fuck, you’re so tight, like—god, it’s unreal.” His hands goes to Louis’ cock, stroking him off until Louis comes too, his eyes squeezing shut as his vision goes white and his limbs go boneless. Spent, they both slump into the mattress. 

“Nick,” Louis mutters, turning his head so his face isn’t smothered in the sheets, “why d’you call me duck?” 

“Because you quack like one,” is Nick’s answer, and Louis is too tired to protest it. 

~ 

They wake up to someone banging on the door and Harry’s voice complaining that he’s been shoved out of his _own_ _room_ , on the _first_ _night_ , goddamnit, and have enough sense to put a fucking _sock_ on the door or something, and how he had to go spend the night with Liam and now he has to live with knowing what his two good friends sound like when they fuck, and he _really_ needs to get in the room now so they need to get dressed or under the covers or something. Louis and Nick just giggle, Louis burying his face in Nick’s shoulder to hide his blush. They hear the sound of the key in the lock so Louis ducks under the sheets just as Harry kicks the door open and stomps into the bathroom, muttering about how weird it is to have his two best friends fucking. 

And maybe this internship won’t be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, first Tomlinshaw fic. I can't believe myself. Anyway, thanks for reading, and let me know what you thought! xx


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